


sinfonia in a flat minor

by yongz



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Classical Music, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Orchestra, Angst, Classical Music, Depression, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M, Oikawa Tooru-centric, Pianist Matsukawa, Sad Oikawa Tooru, Self Confidence Issues, Strangers to Lovers, Suicidal Thoughts, cellist iwaizumi hajime, violinist makki, violist oikawa tooru, yes oikawa plays viola bc i want him to
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:21:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29291295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yongz/pseuds/yongz
Summary: Oikawa's too cowardly to live yet too cowardly to die.Or; Disenchanted violist Oikawa Tooru struggles to find meaning in his playing again. Enter cellist Iwaizumi Hajime.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> tw for suicidal thoughts

Oikawa's chasing the shadow of the person he used to be. Funny, isn't it? Passionate, lively, dedicated.

Social.

Most days he can barely remember what it was like to feel so alive.

He follows in the footsteps of who he was. Every day he goes through the motions. He wakes up. He does his skincare routine (The skincare is essential. Oikawa knows it’s a really bad day if he can't even muster enough energy to do his skincare). He eats breakfast. He drags himself over to his music stand and opens his viola case

He practices.

"Practice" is a loose term. He plays. He plays through the pieces he's working on usually.

And he thinks. _Think about the phrasing_ , his teacher's voice echoes in his mind. _Okay_ , he thinks. He plays it once more trying to sing through the line more. _Did that sound any better?_ he wonders. Oikawa can't really tell anymore. He plays and he plays and he knows it sounds like shit but he can't understand or use enough mental power to figure out why and how to fix it.

It’s exhausting. 

In the end he usually finishes feeling disappointed in himself. Disappointed with his lack of progress disappointed if he took too many breaks because his motivation was simply too low. Or if his focus was nonexistent. Disappointment in that he’ll have to face his teacher on Sunday with yet another horribly prepared movement. He could've worked harder. So why didn't he?

When his teacher voices his concerns that he doesn't think he’s “practicing the right way” (aka the polite way of saying he thinks he hasn't been practicing enough. And God, he's right but Oikawa would be damned before he confessed to his teacher how _hard_ practice has been for him lately.) Oikawa never knows what to say. So he nods. And nods. But what _can_ he say?

 _I have depression. I'm sorry. It's hard,_ he thinks. In reality, he voices none of these.

He’s silent as the weight of his teacher’s disappointment and his own bears down on him. 

-

He misses the days when notes and phrases flowed from his mind with ease. When he could just play and _feel_ the music, rather than having to think it all out. It was much easier. And somehow, better.

And now years later Oikawa somehow still feels behind where he was as a high schooler.

He practices enough to get by. Enough that it sounds okay and that he won't blunder a note during a lesson. But does it sound excellent? No. Would it inspire emotions in an audience? No. Oikawa can't just settle for okay. And yet he does. He shouldn't. But he does.

And he hates himself for it.

Oikawa wants to be _that_ person. The one that makes ppl gasp when they hear them play. One of the top tier players of the school. There’s no official "ranking" of course, but there’s that subtle hierarchy. The few people that the rest of the student body regards as professional quality players.

Oikawa wonders where he stands. He thinks lower average at best.

There's this illusion that everybody’s working themselves to the bone. That they all practice 10 hours a day. Don't get him wrong. Everyone’s very friendly here. But also, competitive. Just in secret. Nobody wants to be a bragger, so they all downplay their confidence or skills.

His therapist tells him they’re all probably struggling too. Like him. And yet when he walks down the rows of hallways all he can hear is the sound of flowing notes from each door. Never ending.

The silence of Oikawa's own room has never been louder.

-

At night he kills himself over and over again, because he knows he couldn’t in real life. He dreams of flinging himself off a tall rooftop. Feels the wind rush past his skin. The lurching falling sensation in his stomach as he plummets to his demise.

Overdose. A bottle of migraine medicine crushed and downed. Bitter to taste, but he lulls into a sleep he never wakes from.

Slitting his wrists... only occasionally. He couldn’t stand the thought of the pain. Or the blood. Way too messy.

Somehow liver failure via overdose sounded more appealing, despite some logical part of his brain telling him it would too, be messy.

Most of all, it’s the after he imagines. How would people react? It’s test simulation. Created and run by his brain. Would anyone really care? Would people at school be sad? Would people even remember me at all?

On one side, there’s the "comfort" of imagining that yes, they would. People would be saddened, and gasp when they heard his name.

On the flip side, they wouldn’t even know who he was when they said his name. Oikawa imagines them going around announcing Oikawa Tooru is dead, and everybody thinking who?

He’s not sure which one hurts more. Knowing that he’d hurt people, wound them with his death sends guilt into his heart. He... He couldn’t do that. Not to Makki or Matsukawa at least. Even though he’d be dead and gone and wouldn’t have to deal with it (unless he failed) the thought of it _now_ is enough to deter him.

But the thought that nobody would even know him or care enough to remember...

It hurts. Simply. His heart twists and aches in painful pangs at the thought. Who _was_ he really? To others, most likely the quiet kid they didn’t really know, but seemed nice.

Ha. How funny. Oikawa's life in a nutshell. Quiet, but nice.

He at least has the knowledge Makki and Matsukawa would be absolutely devastated upon his death. This knowledge doesn’t quite bring him the almost sadistic satisfaction that the positive suicidal reality brings.

He has Makki. And Matsukawa.

But it’s not quite enough. His therapist tells him it’s not a bad thing to need “more” but Oikawa feels guilty anyways. They're great friends. Why is Oikawa so greedy to want more?

He defaults to guilt a lot. Guilt for feeling certain ways. Guilt for the way other people feel. Guilt for taking up too much of his friend’s time. Guilt for taking up space. Just being too much. Just… Being.

-

Oikawa is a coward.

Too cowardly to take the knife in his kitchen drawer to his wrists and slit them open. Too afraid of the pain, and blood. Afraid of the unknown that lies beyond death. He doesn't know what he believes. heaven? reincarnation? nothing? the unknown has always scared Oikawa. And so the unknown beyond does too.

Too cowardly to live his life the way he dreams and wishes he could. Too scared to scream beyond a whisper. To sing proudly at open bars. To reveal parts of himself he desperately keeps hidden lest he be mocked for it. Too scared to try and live up to the happy extroverted image of himself in his head.

Oikawa's the clingy friend. In the end, he’s the friend that can’t let go. Always too attached. Always too deep in. Better to keep a safe distance, lest it come back to bite him later.

He tests them sometimes. If he stops reaching out (he usually texts first) will they reach out to him? It’s the silent fear that one day weeks will pass and they’ll never think of him.

After all, looking on Instagram they have dozens of friends beside him. They don't _need_ him the way he needs them. To him, they're everything. The only ones he has. To them, he’s just another friend among dozens.

And then jealousy comes. And with it the instant shame and guilt for feeling so. How toxic is it of him? To look at his friends being happy and be jealous?

He’s jealous that they have more friends, and he does not. That they have other people they can go to. And Oikawa does not. Oikawa only has them.

The initial spurt of jealousy doesn't arise from a need of possession. But rather a fear of being abandoned. That one day they’ll realize he isn’t particularly worthy being around in comparison to all the other people they know. Oikawa's not particularly funny. Or attractive. He can admit he’s sort of smart but they’re long past the age where kids hang out with the smart ones for help with their homework.

He doesn’t go to parties. Isn’t very good at holding a conversation. He usually relies on the other person to carry it. it’ll usually die unless they put in effort too.

He’s shy and quiet at first. And can come off as rude often due to blunt nature. Hard to get to really know unless you put effort in. Really, why would anyone want to be friends with him? Maybe that’s why he only has two anyways.

-

In his dreams his music is as bold as he wishes he could be in real life. But only in dreams. When it comes down to it, and he draws his bow against the string, he just can't seem to bring himself to do it. To put the required energy in to make it all _perfect_ or _excellent_. Even though he knows he needs to. God, he knows he needs to. Oikawa hated failure. He feared it. And yet something holds him back from achieving the success he craves and wants.

It's partially fear of judgement. Even though logically he knows that there's nothing better than fully dedicating yourself to your playing. But the thought of giving it his all, and then still failing (And even worse, being _laughed_ at for it) makes his heart shrivel up and twist.

-

The practice rooms are... Interesting. The carpets usually have a myriad of odd stains on them and the music stands are _always_ , always, either broken or missing. Oikawa's lucky enough to have a good stand in the room when he enters. He hates having to go around knocking on pianist's doors to steal their music stands. And then half the time after you steal it, you can't raise it to the proper height.

Oikawa places his case on the piano benches and opens it. He should at _least_ play enough that he doesn't forget how to play a scale by tomorrow.

He makes sure to roll his shoulder a few times before hefting his viola up. He tunes. And then he starts with a C Major scale.

It's a good warm up. Easy enough that he doesn't really have to think about what to do, and gets his fingers prepared before diving into anything technically harder.

Such as his concerto. Oikawa mentally groans at the thought of it. Bartok is so, damn, hard. It makes his hands hurt if he plays it for too long. Not to mention the Don Juan excerpt he needs for his upcoming audition. Oikawa's actually played the piece and the excerpt multiple times, but that hasn't made it any easier so far when bringing it back.

Oikawa gets lost in the process of combing through his quite poor intonation in multiple sections of his Bartok concerto when the door opens.

Oikawa stops playing and turns to face the person. It's a cellist, by the large case on his back. Oikawa doesn't think he knows his name. Objectively, he's not bad looking. And for a musician, he looks rather fit. A contrast to all the other millions of lanky looking players around here.

"Hey," he says. Oikawa blinks at them. Partially embarrassed to have been walked in on while practicing. He likes to pretend that nobody could hear him while practicing. Or else his fragile confidence might not survive knowing that people walking down the hallway outside could hear his horrible playing. "I have this room now." Oikawa glances at his phone. Shit. An hour already passed? Why did it feel like he accomplished nothing?

"Right," Oikawa says. "Sorry." He moves to pack up, making sure to thoroughly wipe down his bow and strings.

The other person wordlessly watches him as he shuffles his belongings around to leave. "You sounded good," he says.

Oikawa flushes. "Thanks," he says, even though he thinks _I really don't_. He's probably just trying to be polite.

"I'm Iwaizumi," he says. "Iwaizumi Hajime."

 _Iwaizumi_. Oikawa will have to look him up later.

"Oikawa Tooru," he says in turn. "And sorry about the room."

Iwaizumi waves him off. "Don't worry about it," he says, taking his case off his back.

As Oikawa exits the room, he can hear Iwaizumi saying, "See you around," as the door closes behind him.

-

Oikawa does in fact, search Iwaizumi Hajime up later that day. Iwaizumi Hajime. Cellist. Has a profile on From the Top (something that Oikawa never bothered to audition for before he aged out). There's a sample of his playing and an interview with him attached.

Oikawa plays it.

And oh god. He's one of the _good_ ones. The opening notes of Dvorak's Cello Concerto rings through his room. Crystal clear articulation and phrasing. Oikawa listens on as he reads through the rest of his bio. Besides practicing (ha), Iwaizumi enjoys running, volleyball, and painting.

That's enough to decide that Iwaizumi is decidedly out of Oikawa's league. Both as a friend _and_ romantic interest. And even as a player. And to think Iwaizumi heard his Bartok and called it _good_. Oikawa wants to cry. Iwaizumi plays like this and didn't think Oikawa's concerto was shit?

He was just trying to be nice. He had to have been. There's no way Iwaizumi has standards so low. Even _Oikawa_ knows his concerto is shit.

Oikawa closes the tab without giving Iwaizumi another thought, lest the lingering embarrassment of having such a godly player hear his playing return.

-

Spring registration for chamber groups roll around. Last year Oikawa was in his required string quartet, but this year he wants to play with Makki and Matsukawa.

"What kind of group do you guys want to do?" Oikawa asks at lunch. Because unfortunately, the repertoire for a pianist, violist, and violinist is quite limited.

"Piano quartet?" Makki suggests. "That way we only need a cellist."

"I really want to play the Brahms quintet though," Matsukawa sighs.

Oikawa taps a finger to his chin. "I don't know of any violinists that are free though," he says. Albeit, he doesn't know that many people. It's mostly limited to people within their grade.

"Kunimi?" Matsukawa asks.

"I think Kunimi's already in a group with Kindaichi," Makki says.

"We still need a cellist though," Oikawa says. "And what about that second-year violinist? The one with the orange hair?"

Matsukawa shrugs. "Don't know about him, but I do know a cellist," he says. "He's really good. I'll invite him over tomorrow for lunch and you guys can decide."  
Makki nods. "Sounds good," he says. Oikawa nods as well.

After they finish eating Oikawa departs for his afternoon music theory class. During which he tries his best not to rip his hair out over four-part harmony and parallel octaves.

-

True to his word, Matsukawa arrives to their table promising the cellist is on his way.

"He'll be here in like, five minutes, he said," Matsukawa says. Oikawa chews on the cafeteria chicken slowly. He's really getting sick of the food here.

"What's he like?" Makki asks.

"Don't worry, he's nice," Matsukawa says. "A bit blunt, but a really good player."

The sound of footsteps warns Oikawa of the cellist's approach.

"Sorry I'm late," a familiar voice says. Oikawa freezes. _No fucking way_ , he thinks.

Sure enough, he turns around from his plate of chicken and rice to be greeted by the sight of none other than Iwaizumi Hajime.

"Hi," he says. "I'm Iwaizumi Hajime."


	2. Chapter 2

Matsukawa smiles. "That's Makki, and this is—"

"Oikawa," Iwaizumi says.

"Oh?" Matsukawa's grin turns devious. "You two know each other already?"

"Not really," Oikawa says, ignoring the way Iwaizumi is currently staring at him. "I ran into him once in a practice room."

Iwaizumi nods, and gratefully doesn't mention the state of his concerto. "This chair...?" Iwaizumi asks, gesturing towards the one beside Oikawa.

"Empty," Oikawa says.

Iwaizumi places his cello down beside the table and sits. Oikawa tries not to think too hard about the size of his arms next to him. "I hear you're all in search of a cellist," he says.

Makki nods. "I think I saw you at a competition once," he says. "Hanamaki Takahiro. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Iwaizumi says. "How do you all know each other?"

"Childhood friends." Matsukawa gestures between him and Makki. "Freshman classes." Pointing towards Oikawa.

Iwaizumi hums and takes a bite of his chicken. "Did Matsukawa mention how we met?"

"No," Makki answers. He glances towards Matsukawa, who's starting to look thoroughly embarrassed.

"He—"

"Let's—" Matsukawa glares at Iwaizumi. "—Not get into that right now."

Iwaizumi shrugs. "Alright," he says. "I've got plenty of other stories though."

Matsukawa groans and drops his head into his hands. "I've made a mistake," he says. Makki continues to howl with laughter as Iwaizumi regales the tale of Matsukawa and the Brahms competition failure. Poor Matsukawa.

"I think you'll be a great fit," Makki says by the end. Iwaizumi has thoroughly charmed the two of them. Oikawa's almost tempted to ask Matsukawa if he knows if Iwaizumi is single or not. There are just two catches: Oikawa is way too preoccupied for a relationship right now, and Iwaizumi is way out of Oikawa's league.

He really needs to stop thinking about that. How is he supposed to focus on his practice if he can't even get his mind off a boy?

"Great," Iwaizumi. "Have you filled out the forms yet?"

"Oikawa's our resident organizer," Matsukawa says, slapping his back. "He'll drop the forms off by tomorrow."

And that is that. The next day Oikawa delivers their filled-out form to the chamber music office, taking a piece of candy with him as he leaves. In two days, they start rehearsing, and deciding on what piece they want to play.

-

"I still suggest Brahms," Makki says.

"I like the Faure Quartets," Oikawa suggests.

And from Iwaizumi: "Schumann's great too."

"Oh, I love the Schumann," Matsukawa says.

"Ugh, the third movement, right?" Makki adds. "I think we should play that first maybe. And then one of the others next semester?"

"Good with me," says Iwaizumi.

Oikawa could refuse, on the basis that he doesn't want to play it again. But, considering he doesn't want to disappoint his friends, he agrees. "That works for me as well," he says. The Schumann will be comfortable to play. Oikawa's anxiety won't get worked up about his entrances or playing wrong notes because he _knows_ this piece. It'll be good. A nice way to ease into a new group.

-

The first rehearsal is pretty flawless, as far as first rehearsals go. They were together pretty much, and nobody made any serious blunders. Oikawa thinks they may be the most serious and dedicated groups he's had yet. It makes him all the gladder he didn't refuse. Starting a new piece means Oikawa would've stressed over being underprepared compared to everyone else.

"So..." Matsukawa drawls after the last note finishes ringing. "Thoughts?"

They all stare at each other. Oikawa resists the urge to laugh at the awkwardness. What could be better? The tempo transitions between the sostenuto and allegro sections. Dynamic contrast. Balance. He thinks Matsukawa's playing a little loud sometimes, especially when he has the more accompanimental part. Other than that...

"It was pretty good," Oikawa says, taking charge, lest they spend the rest of the time sitting in awkward silence. "But I think the major things were... Around the tempo changes, and around balance." Everyone nods, agreeing.

"Yeah," Iwaizumi says. "We weren't quite together around uhh..." He squints. "The second sostenuto?" He demonstrates the bar he's talking about. Oikawa recognizes it immediately. "I suppose we also need measure numbers."

Matsukawa groans. "Fuck counting," he says. Makki nods solemnly in agreement.

"We should decide on a tempo between the two," Oikawa says. Because sadly, musicians aren't telepathic. And some of them may have differing ideas on how fast or slow to take it, resulting in well... Them not being together. It's best to work it out beforehand.

"I was thinking around..." Matsukawa trails off before pulling out his phone. Oikawa can hear the telltale sound of a metronome slider sliding around before it lands somewhere. "95 to the half note?" Matsukawa plays a bit of his eighth-note run.

"Sounds good to me," Oikawa says. "Let's try those transitions."

They run through the transitions again, careful to watch each other to get the alignment just right. Oikawa leaves the rehearsal feeling pretty confident about them.

-

Oikawa manages to tear himself away from his laptop and drag himself to the practice rooms. The doors to the practice rooms loom before him like some dreaded gate to hell. _Perhaps it is_ , Oikawa thinks dryly. The devil lives in the mysterious stains on the walls and floors.

Or rather, the devil lives in Oikawa's head while practicing. Oikawa would like to point to two main factors in his practice. Almost like those angel or devil on your shoulder situation, except both of them are "devils." Oikawa's depression hinders his practice, due to his struggle with motivation. Whereas Oikawa's anxiety actually _helps_ his practice, but only because his fear of disappointment and failure is so strong that it motivates him to practice.

It's a lose-lose situation. Either Oikawa loses to his depression and gets nothing done due to his crippling lack of energy and motivation, or he loses to his anxiety and powers through because his fear of extreme failure.

In short, practicing usually makes him feel like crap. Especially due to the fact that he always thinks he sounds awful.

Oikawa sighs as his finishes the long run of fifths. The last note is infamously out of tune for him. His fourth finger always falls a little short. Using the third finger isn't really an option though due to the speed of the passage...

Oikawa forces himself to run it again. Slower, this time.

Usually by the end whether he's had a successful (usually not) practice or not, he leaves with one thought on his mind.

 _Tomorrow will be better. There's always tomorrow_.

**Author's Note:**

> this is a slight vent fic, so i apologize if characterizations are different


End file.
